


Drained

by Hillsofuhhtennessee



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Cuddling, Feeding, Just general fluffy caring for an exhausted vamp, Other, warm baths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hillsofuhhtennessee/pseuds/Hillsofuhhtennessee
Summary: Vampire Demon flies in your window, hungry and exhausted after failing to feed for the night.  Sweet and sometimes silly fluffy nursing ensues.
Relationships: Reader/Demon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Drained

**Author's Note:**

> Wow gee Hills, all you ever write about is wanting to rub Gene’s belly. That’s because I think it’s adorable and I appreciate the fuck out of his skimpy 70s costumes. 
> 
> I may add on to this in the future, he stays at his rescuer’s house for probably a week or two and I had a couple other ideas. I was just getting kind of tired and wanted to work on other stuff for now. 
> 
> Inspired by a story I read about some irl idiot feeding an orphaned bat whipped cream. Of course, Demon would react to that a lot better and probably really enjoy it, and the idea kind of spiralled out of control from there. 
> 
> It’s a pretty little-known fact that Gene actually has really big prominant ears because they’re always at least half-covered by hair. You only really see them in his childhood photos but there’s a handful of adult ones too. I think they’re cute lol

He flits around from house to house frantically. Every window is inpenetrable, each room empty, each person he encounters grabbing a weapon or recognized as someone he’d already visited recently. Flying takes a lot of energy and with no blood to feed on, the Demon grows weak. His pace begins to slow, his body feeling helpless, numb, and utterly drained. He barely has the power to stay aloft, and when he spies an open window, he collapses inside, praying they won’t hurt him or leave him to die like this. 

You awaken from the sound of heavy wingbeats and a loud thud. Rolling over, you see the creature that crash-landed in your bedroom this warm summer night. He’s long and gangly, a tangle of lanky arms and legs and limp wings crumpled in a heap. Panting heavily on the floor, his long tongue lols out of his mouth, his dark eyes looking up at you, desperate and unfocused. His face is stark black and white, so you can’t see the color of its cheeks, but the glimpses of tan flesh on its hands and neck look washed out and sickly. He’s dressed in all leather, riddled with rivets, a skull and crossbones across his chest. Four small fangs poke out of his mouth, two of them his sharpened canines and the other two his crooked, pointed front teeth, like a vampire bat. 

You don’t know whether to be scared of him or for him. It would be terrifying if he wasn’t laying there looking utterly exhausted and pathetic. You carefully get up and get a long broom and prod him lightly. The only reaction is an audible stomach gurgle. Guess he needs something to eat. You tiptoe down to your fridge, looking over your shoulder along the way to make sure he isn’t stalking you. What do you feed this thing? You want to avoid touching him or getting too close in case he tries to attack, but he seems to be too weak to feed himself. And then you get an absurd yet perfect idea as you spy a some leftover cans spray can of whipped cream you ended up with after a party. 

You climb back up to your room, the cans in arms. The creature hasn’t moved, though his eyes gaze at you with weak excitement as he spots the cans you’re holding.

“Open up!”

He stretches his (rather large) mouth wide open and you aim the spray inside. He greedily gulps it down and you offer him more and more. Cream smears across his cheeks as he mouths at the air like a giant hungry goldfish, his lips quite full despite how thin the black lining around his mouth is. His cheeks are soft and rounded. The more you look at him the more you’re endeared by his oddness, and you slowly inch closer as you empty each can into his waiting maw. Until you are right in front of him, and you drop the last drained can to the ground. 

He seems to look a little more alert now, the sugar finally hitting his system. But the whole time you were so transfixed on his face, you hadn’t questioned his otherworldly appetite. You look down and notice his fuzzy stomach poking out from under his shirt, distended from gorging. It’s round, swollen taut, and gurgling audibly. He clearly ate way too much and won’t be flying away anytime soon. You pull the air mattress out from under your bed and gather some extra blankets from your closet, tugging his limp body on top of the mattress and giving him some covers to cuddle with as you work on soothing his belly.

You try and rub gentle circles around his navel but he flinches in pain. He’s too sensitive there right now. So you place your hands on his sides instead, and slowly knead around the edge of his ribs. He seethes as you press on particularly tender spots, but wants you to go on. There’s a soft gurgle as you run over a spot, and he belches. Eating so quickly made him swallow a lot of air. He burps a few more times as you work him over, the pressure and bloated feeling in his belly waning a bit. But the all the sugar is really really hitting him, and his hands curl around his middle as a the achy crampy feeling sets in. 

But he has a bit more energy now. You’re able to slowly lift him to his feet and walk him to the bathroom. You turn on the hot water and let it fill the tub as you help him undress. You’ve gone from fear to love so quickly. He’s so helpless in this state you can’t help but want to cuddle and care for him. After helping him back up, you guide him into the warm water. He melts into the surface, the gentle, permeating warmth heavenly to his achy stomach and sore, tired muscles. You also get a better look at him under the leather. He’s long and gangly, large-boned and wide but he doesn’t have much meat on him. His chest is rounded and pudgy, though, and you could feel a slight pudginess to his belly earlier. You lather up some soap and massage it all over him, helping to relax and distract him from his sore, bloated middle. He closes his eyes with contentment as you rub his cheeks and under his chin before shampooing his hair and giving him a scalp massage. You’re getting playful with him and he seems to enjoy it. With his hair slicked back, you see his ears for once and can’t help but toy with them. To go along with his wings and pointed front teeth, they’re large and stick out a lot, making him more batlike. They’re so adorable you can’t help but cup them and scratch him behind them. He pouts, pushing his cream-stuffed stomach out to beg for more rubs. With it all finally starting to digest, he’s a bit softer and less distended. You circle his navel with one hand while tracing the line of fuzz up and down his belly with the other. The warm water and gentle touch feels absolutely heavenly to him and you can tell it’s working by how noisy and churning his gut is. You just let him lay there for several minutes while you keep massaging him. 

But eventually you have to haul him out of the tub, something easier said than done. He hisses as you suggest getting out of the water and towelling off, the warmth is just too comforting. Threatening that he’ll turn into a raisin is no better. Perhaps it’s better to use carrots rather than sticks. You fetch the biggest, fluffiest, most irresistable bathrobe you can find and hold it up. It would be a bit short on him but it’s so soft and plush and warm-looking it manages to lure him out. You grab him with a towel and manage to dry him off most of the way before wrapping him up in the robe and twisting his hair into a turban so he doesn’t get his pillow sopping wet. 

You lead him over to the air mattress again and lay him back down to sleep as you crawl back up into bed. But as you shut your eyes, you feel the springs creak as he crawls under the covers next to you. He presses his rear into the crook of your form and pulls your hand around his belly, making you the big spoon. He’s like a squirmy space heater. His stomach has calmed considerably but grumbles and shifts constantly in your hand. There’s even a hungry growl already, and his large eyes look back at you pathetically hoping for another handout. You roll over and pull out a snack cake from under your bed and his face lights up as he devours it. You run your free hand down his collarbones and toy with the bit of fuzz poking out of the top of the robe, before resting that hand on his belly as well. You feel it rise and fall more slowly as he falls asleep. 

——

He’s still sleeping like a log when you awaken. You figure you better call a bat rescue since you have no idea what he is or what you should really be doing with him, because you can’t imagine feeding him whipped cream and cake all the time is healthy. They knock at your door after an hour or so, while he’s perched on a stool by your kitchen counter, dumping a bit of every sugary cereal you own into one of your large mixing bowls and pouring in half the jug of milk he found in your fridge. The ice tray sits next to him and he’s in the process of popping some out as the door opens. He raided your closet that morning and pulled out whatever he deemed most edgy from that regrettable phase you went through years ago. None of it fits him but at least he’s not indecent. 

“Ah, you’re here. Well, I guess you can see what my... bat problem is.”

The poor volunteer stares at the creature in abject terror, nearly dropping the towel they’re holding. He grins their terror in delight, and drops an ice cube into his cereal, maintaining full eye contact. 

“... What you need is a priest.”

They back out the door, wide eyed in horror and close it slowly. 

You look at him, not really sure what to feel or say. 

“Why are you like this?”

“Because I can. I like frightening people who don’t understand the merits of ice-cold cereal milk.”

“Oh, so now you’ll talk”

“Yeah, I just played dumb for you last night because I was tired and wanted you to baby me. You wouldn’t mind doing that again, would you?”

He nudges his exposed belly out and bats his big dark eyes.


End file.
